Corin stood quietly in front of the massive table in the main building. The soft morning light fell through the high windows, refracted on the polished stone floor and made the golden engravings of the ranking list gleam. The plaque was several meters high, made of black marble, and the engraved names glowed slightly - magically enhanced so that anyone could read them, even from a distance.
At the top: Cearen Veil.
Corin blinked once. Then again. He knew Cearen was strong, his place on the disciplinary committee had already given that away. But that strong?
'Number one in the academy...?'
Even after the previous demonstration, it seemed a little hard to believe. A soft breath escaped him, somewhere between respect, amazement and the slightly bitter aftertaste of having overlooked how deep the world really went here.
Of course, it made sense. The calmness. The serenity. The way Cearen broke up fights without taking them seriously. The way he never got flustered. Because he didn't have to.
Corin let his gaze wander further down. The top 10 was peppered with familiar names.
Names like:
Ines Callavein - Rank 8
Blues Theremys - Rank 6
Some other faces he had already seen on the council or committee were also quite high up. All members with influence, not only in the Academy, but also outside it.
His own name was not to be found. At least not in the top ten.
Not that he would have expected it. Not yet. Corin managed to secure the 36. Rank.
More and more students gathered behind him. The air was thick with whispers, comments and occasional exclamations.
"I knew Ines would get back on high."
"Cearen was clear. But for him to be so high up..."
"Who's this one in ninth place? I've never heard of him."
"You're new. Not everyone at the top has had a fight."
"Does anyone see the new disciplinary member?"
"Denoir? No, he's not in the top ten yet. But he was that new guy with the performance last week, wasn't he?"
He ignored the voices. At least he tried to. A small circle had formed around him without him noticing. Glances. Some approving. Some scrutinizing. Others simply curious.
It seemed these rankings were a bigger deal than he had expected. The board was more than just a list. It was a mirror. A figurehead. It decided who you talked to, who took you seriously or saw you at all.
And in the middle of this world full of names, power, prestige and expectations, there he stood.
A stranger who was learning from week to week what it meant to become part of it.
He took a deep breath.
The game had only just begun.
Cearen hadn't been seen since the duel. No training, no comments, no jokes, nothing.
Corin couldn't say whether it was intentional or just coincidence. But the silence left room. Space to tackle things that he had previously pushed aside. Things like the parcel.
It was still in his chest, hidden under clothes, books and a black blanket, as if he had hoped it would lose importance the longer he ignored it. But now, with a little distance and more clarity, it was time. He opened it carefully. The smell of old paper caught his nose.
Inside: several carefully sealed documents, rolled up or bound in leather. He picked up the first one.
Black ink. A style that was foreign to him, no common handwriting, no language he recognized. The characters were sharp, angular, interspersed with symbols that looked more like a codex than simple writing. Rune-like.
Eerily old.
He turned the pages. Diagrams. Maps, perhaps?
Some pages showed circular shapes, others were full of complex symbols, some with red lines running through them.
'What the hell...?'
It was frustrating. It was as if someone had placed a secret right under his nose and at the same time locked him in a cage, the key to which lay in a long-forgotten language.
But even without knowing what exactly he was holding, one thing was certain: This information was important. Important enough to kill someone like Ezekiel. Important enough for the Morenos to risk a war against the Valtros.
He sensed it. Like a faint echo in his chest. Part of this game was bigger, much bigger than he had thought.
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The lecture room buzzed like a beehive; lively, chaotic, full of voices. Between curious questions, the rustling of pages and repeated glances in Corin's direction, he clearly sensed that the atmosphere had changed. It wasn't open admiration, not even genuine friendship, but there was a cautious respect in the air. And that was enough.
Kindness, even if it didn't come from the heart, was a means to an end. As long as he got stronger, it would stay.
Rheaa Maron clapped her hands twice, sharply, precisely. "Quiet, please."
The conversations fell silent. Her presence was not intimidating, but she had the kind of authority that comes from experience and knowledge.
"Since everyone is only talking about the rankings today anyway, we might as well stick to that," she said as she walked to the table. "Because if you want to move up, you have to know how."
A quiet giggle here and there, then silence.
"The first three ranks, path rank 1, 2, 3 can be achieved by traditional means. Training. Meditative deepening of your path. And above all: focus."
She looked through the rows as if to assess each individual student.
"It sounds vague, but it is. Focus means something different to everyone. For some it's control, for others it's pain or clarity. You'll have to find out for yourselves."
Corin leaned back slightly, making mental notes. Train, meditate, focus. Simple in theory, difficult in execution.
"The path to a Herald, however..."
She paused. Her voice was quieter now, but more insistent.
"...is a different story."
A collective gasp went round the room.
"And not one we're going to talk about today."
An audible groan.
"If you haven't even reached rank 3, there's no point in bothering with the questions that require rank 4."
Corin's gaze wandered to the side. He thought of Cearen of what he had shown in the arena.
'Rank three?'
He looked as if he had long since understood other rules.
"What you should know is this."
Rheaa turned to the blackboard and wrote three numbers with a sweeping hand:
1 - 3 - 5
"Your basic blessings develop with your path. Rank 3 brings the first boost, rank 5 the next. If you want to go deeper, you have to fully commit to your path. Only a few ever get that far."
Corin noted the numbers silently. It was no small thing; a tangible indication of growth. To direction.
Then a student at the back of the room raised his hand.
"And what about rank 7?"
A brief moment of silence. Rheaa put the chalk aside and crossed her arms.
"Rank 7 is... a myth."
Murmurs went around the room. She allowed it for a moment.
"A myth that might exist," she added. "But what we know is so vague... so sketchy... that it's little more than a shadow on the wall. Most pathbearers get lost along the way."
A female student with shimmering hair leaned forward slightly.
"So where does the knowledge of rank 7 even come from?"
Rheaa looked at the class. Her gaze sharpened.
"From stories. From individual names that appear in old records. Names that have never been confirmed. One of them is Queen of Thorns."
Silence. There was a hint of awe in the air.
Corin raised his eyes slightly. Queen of Thorns, a name that promised more than all the details.
He didn't write it down. But he would remember it. That was new for Corin. And important.
A clear indication: rank 7 was not just a myth. It was the highest rank. On the one hand, he was still a long way from it, on the other... it was finally a direction. A goal. A next step on this dark, winding path.